Chapter 1

“And why trouble to roll? The ship will do all that for you, if you will only have patience.”

He explained, somewhat brusquely, that he was suffering from mental agony, not seasickness; and by a little pertinacious questioning (for I would not allow myself to be rebuffed) I was soon in possession of the secret which was troubling my companion, whose name, as I also learned, was Augustus McFadden.

It seemed that his parents had emigrated before his birth, and he had lived all his life in the Colony, where he was contented and fairly prosperous—when an eccentric old aunt of his over in England happened to die.

She left McFadden himself nothing, having given by her will the bulk of her property to the only daughter of a baronet of ancient family, in whom she took a strong interest. But the will was not without its effect upon her existence, for it expressly mentioned the desire of the testatrix that the baronet should receive her nephew Augustus if he presented himself within a certain time, and should afford him every facility for proving his fitness for acceptance as a suitor. The alliance was merely recommended, however, not enjoined, and the gift was unfettered by any conditions.

“I heard of it first,” said McFadden, “from Chlorine’s father (Chlorine is her name, you know)”.

Sir Paul Catafalque wrote to me, informing me of the mention of my name in my aunt’s will, enclosing his daughter’s photograph, and formally inviting me to come over and do my best, if my affections were not preengaged, to carry out the last wishes of the departed. He added that I might expect to receive shortly a packet from my aunt’s executors which would explain matters fully, and in which I should find certain directions for my guidance. The photograph decided me; it was so eminently pleasing that I felt at once that my poor aunt’s wishes must be sacred to me. I could not wait for the packet to arrive, and so I wrote at once to Sir Paul accepting the invitation.

“Yes,” he added, with another of the hollow groans, “miserable wretch that I am, I pledged my honor to present myself as a suitor, and now—now—here I am, actually embarked upon the desperate errand!”

He seemed inclined to begin to roll again here, but I stopped him. “Really,” I said, “I think in your place, with an excellent chance—for I presume the lady’s heart is also disengaged—with an excellent chance of winning a baronet’s daughter with a considerable fortune and a pleasing appearance, I should bear up better.”

“You think so,” he rejoined, “but you do not know all! The very day after I had despatched my fatal letter, my aunt’s explanatory packet arrived. I tell you that when I read the hideous revelations it contained, and knew to what horrors I had innocently pledged myself, my hair stood on end, and I believe it has remained on end ever since. But it was too late. Here I am, engaged to carry out a task from which my inmost soul recoils. Ah, if I dared but retract!”

“Then why in the name of common sense, don’t you retract?” I asked. “Write and say that you much regret that a previous engagement, which you had unfortunately overlooked, deprives you of the pleasure of accepting.”